


Mourning Becomes Electric

by baroque_mongoose



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 05:24:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3278375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroque_mongoose/pseuds/baroque_mongoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of our heroes unexpectedly becomes the sweetheart of a pack of wild Jägers at a beer festival; and it's almost certainly not the one you were thinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mourning Becomes Electric

“I thought you were just going out to buy a couple of shirts?” said Zeetha, looking at the large bag I was carrying.

“Yeah,” said Violetta. “And you were ages, too. We nearly went out looking for you.”

“Ah,” I replied. “Sorry about that. Unfortunately I have also had to buy a disguise in rather a hurry. There is someone in this town I would prefer not to recognise me.”

Lady Heterodyne raised an eyebrow. “Anyone we know?”

“Oh, no,” I assured her. “You are all perfectly safe. Suffice it to say that I can't go into any details, but this person's government probably wants me alive. Failing that, they might very well settle for dead.”

“So, what's the disguise, Wooster?” asked Violetta.

“Ah, well, since I am travelling with three ladies, I decided that the safest thing would be to become a lady myself,” I replied. I opened the bag and took out a long black gown.

“Mourning?” said Lady Heterodyne.

“Naturally,” I replied. “My face is not so easy to disguise, and, in any case, I will admit to being rather attached to my side whiskers. I don't want to have to shave them off for the sake of being disguised for a couple of days. Hence I have a heavy black crape mourning veil, under which I could be anyone.” I paused. “I've done it before. Crape veils have a rather unpleasant smell, but it is better than being recognised.”

Zeetha grinned. “I bet you'll be a real cutie,” she said.

“Ah. I'm not Maxim,” I replied. “I'm aiming to be ignored, not admired.”

“You know,” said Lady Heterodyne, “this is wonderful! I mean, not that you've got to disguise yourself, Mr Wooster, but that you're going to be wearing a long skirt. I thought I was going to have to wear one, and to be honest I've got completely out of the habit.”

“Why does someone need to wear a long skirt?” asked Violetta, puzzled.

“Because I want to test my new clank without drawing attention to it,” she explained. “It's a navigator. It's supposed to be able to tell us where we are and how to get to where we want to go.”

“That sounds very useful,” I said, “but how does it do that?”

“It can measure local contours and match them to stored map data,” Lady Heterodyne explained. “There's also a certain element of dead reckoning. I want to see if the maps I've given it so far are good enough, and for that I've got to take it out; but it'll need to be hidden, or people are going to know I'm a spark, and I'd really rather not have that happen.”

“And it can keep pace suitably if it is hidden under a skirt?” I asked. “I don't think it would help either of us if I were to trip over it.”

“Yes, that'll be fine,” she assured me. “It's intelligent. It won't get under your feet or anything.”

“So, Wooster,” said Zeetha, “are you coming to the beer festival with us this afternoon?”

“Certainly I am,” I replied, “but I had perhaps better stay away from the actual beer. Perhaps one of you might buy me a bottle or two for later. If I am supposed to be a woebegone widow, I should probably not be clinking steins and joining in with the singing. I shall nibble at snacks in a desultory fashion and sip lemonade.”

“Poor Wooster,” said Violetta.

“No need to feel sorry for me,” I replied, with a smile. “It's amazing how much I shall enjoy my lemonade when I consider what the possible alternatives might be.”

I went to change, at least as far as possible. When I rejoined the others, I asked if someone could help lace me up at the back. Zeetha obliged, with some gusto.

“Perhaps not quite so tightly, if you don't mind,” I said. “I am aiming for ordinary female figure, not fashion model.”

“Yeah, but you do squish pretty nicely,” replied Zeetha. I think this was probably intended to be a compliment.

“I shall probably want to be able to sit down at some point, even so,” I said. She loosened the laces a fraction.

“Better?” she asked.

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“You actually look rather good, Mr Wooster,” said Lady Heterodyne. “Although I'm not quite sure I ought to say that.”

“Yeah, the figure's right,” said Violetta.

“Thank you,” I replied. “It's mainly the crinoline. The hips are more important to the silhouette than the, ah, upper half, and I think that's often forgotten.”

“Oh, and this is the clank,” said Lady Heterodyne, indicating a small squat creation in polished brass. It had a long, flexible antenna. “That's the scanning device, but it's got a sensor in the end, so it's not going to poke through your skirt by accident. You can just wander about as you like and you won't even know it's there.”

“What are we going to call you?” asked Zeetha.

“You know, I hadn't actually thought of that,” I admitted.

“What was your mother's name?” asked Violetta. “We could call you that if you like.”

“Meera,” I replied.

“That'll do,” said Violetta.

So, when we all went out to the beer festival later, I was Meera; all of us went, that is, except for Krosp, who would have been far too conspicuous. Lady Heterodyne promised to buy him a few bottles of beer to make up for it, and Zeetha added that if he was very good she would get him one of the souvenir hats.

“You can't bribe me with hats,” he groused. “I'm not a Jäger.”

“Maybe not, but you'd still look good in a hat,” replied Violetta. “Oh, and they'll probably have those little sausage things. I'll get you a few of those, shall I?”

“That's better,” said Krosp, mollified. “Anything involving sausage is always acceptable.”

I put on the hat with the veil, arranged it in the mirror, draped my skirts over Lady Heterodyne's little clank, and left with the others. “I have no idea how women wear these veils for months at a time,” I observed. “I'm sure the smell is bad for the lungs.”

“It is,” replied Violetta. “It's a known thing. Absolute murder if you have asthma. I suppose if you have something like that, you just avoid going out as much as possible while you're in mourning, or at least while you're at the stage where you need a veil.”

“Why is it only women who are supposed to need them?” I asked. “Men, after all, grieve for their loved ones just as much as women do.”

Violetta shrugged. “I don't know. To be honest, I don't bother. I mean, if I put on mourning every time one of my relatives got killed, I'd never be out of it. I've got a lot of relatives, and they're usually busy trying to kill one another.”

“You have been somewhat unfortunate in that respect,” I observed.

“Well, Auntie Margolotta was nice,” she mused. “If I'd had the chance at the time, I might have at least made some kind of effort for her. Maybe, I don't know, a black jacket or something.”

“Nice,” I said, “as in probably wasn't actively trying to kill you?”

“Yeah.” She grinned. “And, for our family, that's kind of awesome.”

“I'm amazed there are any of you left,” I said.

“Well, the flip side is that you do get used to fending off lethal attacks from a pretty early age,” she reminded me.

“It must be rather like being a spy,” I replied. “Only more so.”

The beer festival was being held on the field just outside the town which was normally used for cattle auctions and the like. It was uneven and muddy, and I was very glad that my dress was long enough to get away with wearing my own shoes. There were various tents dotted around the place; most of them were plain canvas and serving assorted types of beer, but there was one smaller, gaily striped one belonging to a fortune teller, and a very large marquee decorated with coloured ribbons. There were stalls, sideshows, a brass band, a man selling roast chestnuts from a mobile brazier, and all the usual amusements one would expect.

“Right,” said Zeetha. “Beer ahoy!”

“I think I'm going to pace myself,” said Violetta. “I'll try some beer a little later. First of all, I'm going to have a go on some of the sideshows. The hoopla looks fun.”

“I'm going to watch the puppets, I think,” said Lady Heterodyne.

“I'll join you,” I said.

I should, perhaps, have known better. The puppet show was a Heterodyne farce, and someone had attempted to bring the cast up to date as far as possible on the basis of rather limited information. The golden-haired Lady Heterodyne puppet was, I will concede, not a bad likeness; but I think Master Gil would at the very least have scowled if he had seen his puppet, and, more likely, blown something up. Lady Heterodyne assured me that the one of Tarvek Sturmvoraus was no better, though the fight scene between them was quite cleverly done. However, once it got to the stage where most of the cast were supposed to be running round Castle Heterodyne and losing their trousers, I was unable to suspend disbelief any further. One does not lose one's trousers in Castle Heterodyne. One loses one's sanity, or possibly one's life.

I wandered off to try my luck at the coconut shy. Having won a coconut, I then sat down on one of the benches to listen to the band for a while, and when they took a break I went to examine the stalls. Violetta appeared at my elbow.

“You should try the hoopla,” she suggested. “The prizes aren't bad. I won a pewter tankard.”

“I'll do that in a little while,” I said. “I'm quite tempted by these wooden puzzles. I think I might buy one for my niece. It's the sort of thing she appreciates.”

“They look very difficult,” said Violetta.

“Yes, exactly. My niece is startlingly intelligent.”

“I suppose it does tend to run in families. Did you get bored with the puppets?”

“No,” I replied. “They set my teeth on edge. Lady Heterodyne seems to be finding them amusing, but then, after all, it is her castle. I have some rather bad memories of it.”

Violetta laughed. “She looks quite entranced. Oh, what's that stall there? Sweets? I'm going to see if they've got any chocolate limes.”

It took me a little while to choose a couple of puzzles, one for myself and one for my niece, and by the time I had paid for them Violetta had disappeared again. I went to the sweet stall and bought a bag of toffee and some chocolate-covered raisins, then decided to go and try the hoopla. On the way, I passed Zeetha.

“Hey,” she said. “I can definitely recommend this one.” She raised her beer stein. “It's called Crazy Jäger.”

“Really? I hope nobody decides to take that personally,” I replied. “Look over there.”

She looked. “Jägers... and I don't know any of them. Do you?”

I shook my head. “No. They've got to be a wild pack. Of course, if there's any trouble, they should still recognise Lady Heterodyne's authority.”

“Yeah. They can smell her. Even so, I'd kind of prefer there not to be any trouble for once,” said Zeetha. “Much as I enjoy a good fight, sometimes I just want to kick back and savour the beer, you know?”

There were about a dozen of the Jägers, standing in a little knot near one of the tents. They were loud and boisterous, but that was normal for Jägers, especially at a beer festival; they did not look as though they were out to cause any trouble. Nonetheless, most people were still keeping well clear of them. I sighed. “I suspect that if there is any trouble, it won't be the Jägers who start it,” I observed.

“Well, from most people's point of view, they are pretty scary,” Zeetha pointed out. “You've always got on with them. But then, you're not the average person, and you don't have relatives who've had to face them in battle.”

“I appreciate that,” I said. “But, even so, they're not on a battlefield at the moment. It ought to be logical for people to assume that they're unlikely to cause any trouble unless they're provoked.”

She laughed. “Since when were people logical?”

“I know. Oh well. I'm going to try the hoopla. Violetta recommends it.”

“Good luck,” replied Zeetha. “I'm going to try the... let's see.” She looked at the printed list in her other hand. “Oh, the Sturmhausen Skullcracker.”

“You might need good luck with that too,” I said.

I have a good aim. I won a musical box on the hoopla, and when I wound it up it played a lullaby by Brahms. I then went and bought a glass of lemonade, and, since all my friends were otherwise occupied, I thought I might go and chat with the Jägers in the interests of diplomacy. If an obviously respectable lady was seen talking to them, people might perhaps decide that they were not so dangerous after all.

I was, however, intercepted. A large and very drunk man slewed into my path and leered at me.

“Want to dance?” he asked.

“No, thank you, sir,” I replied. “I am in mourning. It would be most unseemly.”

“Oh, come on, darling! You're here, so you might as well enjoy yourself.”

“I am already enjoying myself, thank you,” I replied. I was a little annoyed. In my opinion, any man who cannot keep himself from badgering women when drunk should not drink.

“Jus' one dance. Jus' one,” he pleaded, shoving his face so close to my veil that I had to lean backwards.

“Sir,” I said, “go away. You are making a disgraceful exhibition of yourself.”

That was when he tried to touch me. What happened instead was that he flew several feet backwards and crashed straight into the fortune teller's tent, where he vanished through the flap. There was a scream from within followed almost immediately by a thud and a tinkle of broken glass; then there was a very brief pause, after which the fortune teller started shouting. She had a great deal to say to her unexpected visitor, and we could all hear every word. Quite a lot of the words, however, were not fit to be recorded here.

I realised, with a start, what must have happened. There was some electrical fault in the clank, and the thing was live. Its antenna must have been in contact with the topmost hoop of my crinoline. I was suddenly extremely grateful for the fact that the thing was intelligent enough to avoid touching my legs.

A Jäger walked up to me, beaming from ear to ear. “Hey,” he said. “Hyu iz vun classy leddy.”

I curtseyed, careful to avoid contact with any hoops. “That's very kind of you, sir.”

“Vy not come und tok to us? Ve make sure no-vun bothers hyu again,” he offered. “If hyu had not hit heem, ve vould haff done it for hyu. But dot vos a goot hit. Hyu hit almost like a Jäger.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Hy iz Juppi.” He politely offered me an arm. “Come und meet de odder boys. Dot drunken lout von't dare bother hyu again if hyu iz vit us.”

Somehow, I doubted he would anyway; I suspected he was still dazed. However, I duly took Juppi's arm and allowed him to introduce me to the others.

By the time Violetta came to find me, I had been bought several glasses of lemonade, two bunches of flowers, and – after I incautiously let slip the fact that there was a cat back at our lodgings – a large chunk of Bierwurst. “Oh, there you are, Meera!” she said. “Come on. We're going.”

“Ho,” said Juppi soulfully. “Ve iz all in luff vit hyu friend.”

“But they have all acted like perfect gentlemen,” I said.

“Unlike der drunken eediot earlier,” one of the other Jägers rumbled. “Vhen ve find heem, ve smek heem goot.”

“Ah – that's very chivalrous of you,” I said, “but there's really no need. He has, after all, been smacked rather well already.”

“I can tell there's a story here,” said Violetta, who was managing to keep her face remarkably straight.

“And I shall tell it very shortly,” I promised. “Good evening, gentlemen. It's been a pleasure to talk to you.”

They all bowed, a little awkwardly. “Ve iz sorry hyu got to go,” said Juppi. “Iz not often ve meet a leddy vot can hit like dot.”

“Who knows?” I said. “Perhaps we shall meet again.”

Violetta did extremely well. She did not start laughing until we were well out of earshot. “Oh, this is priceless!” she grinned. “Just wait till I tell the others you're now the Jägers' sweetheart. What on earth happened?”

I explained. She became suddenly serious. “Whew,” she said. “You were lucky. I wouldn't want to walk round with a live electrical clank under my skirt.”

“No, well, I was rather alarmed when I realised,” I replied, “but then I considered that it had kept away from my legs up to that point, and therefore it would probably continue to do so.”

“I just hope Agatha's got enough data now,” said Violetta. “Wouldn't want you to have to take it out again. At least, not till the fault is fixed.”

We rejoined the others. Zeetha was by now quite cheerfully drunk, and Lady Heterodyne was still talking about the puppets.

“...and the bit with the coffee machine was actually fairly true to life,” she was saying. “Except that Captain Vole isn't that colour. They made him green, and he's really a sort of ice blue. I suppose they hadn't actually seen him, and green's the most common colour for Jägers. All right, I know he's not technically a Jäger now, but... oh, there you two are!”

“And speaking of Jägers,” said Violetta, “here's their new sweetheart.”

Zeetha guffawed. “What? You?”

“So it appears,” I replied, “but if you don't mind, I'll tell you the story somewhere quieter.” I had had no objection to telling Violetta, knowing that she could keep her voice down, but I was not so sure about Zeetha just at the moment.

I told the whole story once we were back in the safety of our lodgings. “Yikes,” said Lady Heterodyne. “Sorry about that. I'll get it fixed right now, and I'd probably also better add a trailing earth lead just in case that ever happens again. Still, I suppose it did save you hitting that man yourself.”

“Actually, that would be quite a useful invention,” Violetta mused. “Electric skirts to discourage men with wandering hands.”

“I'm afraid I can't agree with that at all,” I replied. “There is no excuse for a man's hands to wander, and women should not have the responsibility of guarding against it. Now, electric trousers, to be worn by habitual offenders... those might well have their uses.”

“Hey,” said Zeetha. “I like the way you think.”

“You let a bunch of Jägers fall in love with you?” Krosp demanded. “And buy you flowers?”

“Really, Krosp, there was nothing I could do about it without blowing my cover,” I remonstrated. “You know how Jägers always admire a woman who can fight.”

“Huh,” said Krosp. “What sort of a man are you?”

“I think I should probably point out that they also bought me this,” I replied, bringing out the Bierwurst. “For you.”

Krosp looked at it, the expression on his face suddenly thoughtful.

“Ah,” he said. “Well... that's a different matter, of course.”


End file.
